


Jerk

by delires



Category: South Park
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-07
Updated: 2012-07-07
Packaged: 2017-11-09 09:34:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/453994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delires/pseuds/delires
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not that weird, two friends jacking off in the same room. It isn’t gay if you’re not touching or looking at each other...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jerk

Summer in South Park is always a wash-out. The worst of the snowdrifts melt into squelching slush. Flurries of snowflakes are replaced by constant drizzle. With no school and no sports teams to practice for, there is never anything to do. 

This is a sucky time of year and it has been a sucky kind of day.

The nearest city is an hour’s bus ride and the cable hasn’t been working right since the rockslide a month ago. They are holed up in Stan’s room, playing games on his crusty old PS2 and drawing boners and tits into the mist that covers the windows. They’re too old for shit like this, really. Getting his driver’s permit and being able to work part time to buy his own sneakers makes Kyle feel like he shouldn’t be wasting his days to Grand Theft Auto and dick jokes, but there is no point pretending around Stan. They have known each other too long and there is already too much dirt between them for pretence to be worth the effort. 

They have the room stocked out with chips and soda and beer - warm from being hidden under Stan’s bed too near to the radiator. His parents are in Denver for the night, watching some old people’s tribute band and Shelley is in her room down the hall, playing Evanescence at full volume to cover the noises she makes getting fucked by her boyfriend.

There is a text message sitting open on the screen of Kyle’s phone from ‘McCordick’: _yo bitch u watch it yet? ur gonna cream so hard it might kill u :p_

Kyle hasn’t replied. He hasn’t done anything but grunt and toss the phone aside into the tumble of Stan’s unwashed sheets. They are watching it right now, lights out, sitting together in the glow of the laptop screen. 

“Fuck,” Stan says, panting, a safe distance away on the other side of the pillows propped between them, “Where does Kenny find this shit?”

Kyle can hear the flack-flack sound of Stan jerking himself, but he’s trying not to listen to that. He’s listening to the moans of the woman on the screen as she arches and shudders between the two dudes double-teaming her. Kyle licks his lips, finds them dry and sour with the taste of beer. 

“He probably makes it his fucking self, dude. Who gives a crap when it’s this good?”

“Yeah,” Stan says, “Hell, yeah.”

It’s not that weird, two friends jacking off in the same room. Kyle’s done this before with Kenny. It isn’t gay if you’re not touching or looking at each other. Kenny’s so mellow that it’s never felt awkward. Maybe it’s a little different with Stan because they’re so tight that they’re practically related. The room is dark though, and they both have the same parts so there’s nothing to get freaked out about. 

That is until, in a distressing turn of events, one of the guys in the movie grips the other dude by the back of the neck and yanks him forwards into sloppy open-mouthed kiss. It’s out of nowhere. It’s like a car crash. Kyle can’t look away; he’s trapped by a jolt of shock-provoked arousal. 

Across the pillow barricade, Stan has gone still. Kyle can hear him breathing hard. He glances away from the screen to find Stan looking right at him.

“Dude,” Stan says. “Do you want me to stop it?”

“I don’t know.” Kyle’s head feels all muzzy. Having Stan look him in the face while he’s turned on and hard is making his cheeks burn. He swallows and says, “I mean, what else are we going to watch?” 

Stan nods, chest still heaving. “That’s what I’m saying, man.”

“We can keep on. It’s not that weird.”

“Kenny’s watched it.”

“Right. We’ll just bail if it gets way gross.”

“Factual.”

They look away from each other, back towards the laptop screen. The woman is slotting herself against the muscular back of one of the dudes now, while they work at swallowing one another’s tongues, their naked hips rolling together like well-oiled pistons.

“Figures that Kenny would be into messed up shit like this,” Stan says, his wrist pumping faster. 

“Totally,” Kyle says, and then, “holy fuck,” as one of the guys flips the other suddenly down onto the bed. Stan makes a little strangled sound and scrambles against the covers. 

“Jesus Christ I need something here. Some lotion or─” He leans sideways, over the edge of the bed smacking the laptop with his sock-covered foot. Kyle has to reach to steady the screen, the movement awkward with his dick still in hand. When Stan swings back upright, he is holding a Mountain Dew can. Kyle watches as he dribbles the liquid over his hand.

“Dude,” he says, “That’s soda.”

Stan looks at him. Even in the weak light of the computer screen, it is clear how flushed his cheeks are. He is twitchy and nervous with arousal. Kyle tries not to look any lower than his face. 

“It’s flat.” 

“Just because the bubbles are gone doesn’t mean it’s gonna work like lube, dude.”

“Fuck,” Stan says. He brings his hand towards his face and licks the soda from it with thick strokes of his tongue. Staring at him, Kyle’s breath turns solid and clogs up his throat. He still has one hand fisted loosely around his dick, and the flesh twitches against his fingers. 

Palm slick with saliva, Stan lowers his hand back between his legs. Kyle lets himself look down for the first time to see the solid length of Stan’s cock jutting from the waistband of his sweatpants. It lies against dark sketch lines of hair and the tip glints with wetness. When Stan’s long fingers curl around it and start pumping, it is just about the hottest thing that Kyle has ever seen. 

Stan has his head tipped back against the wall, eyes slitted, watching from between his eyelashes as the guys on the screen go at it. 

“Dude,” he says, whispering, when he notices how frozen Kyle is. “You sure you don’t want me to stop it?”

Kyle shakes his head. “No. I don’t want you to stop.” 

The pillows sink as he rests one arm on top of them, leaning across the safety buffer between them. He moves slowly, keeping his eyes on Stan’s face, looking out for signs of imminent puking. Yet there is nothing but the slight parting of Stan’s lips as Kyle tilts his head closer and closer, until he can feel Stan’s mouth quivering against his own. For a moment, there is only hot breath. Then Stan kisses back. His lips close around Kyle’s and his tongue is soft sliding between Kyle’s teeth. 

Without really thinking about doing it, Kyle moves his hand down to where Stan’s fingers are still wrapped around his dick, nudging at them until they drift aside and leave the work to Kyle.

The moans of the porno have turned into a generic hum, nothing but a backing track to the sound of Kyle’s hand moving against Stan’s skin and the wet click of their kisses. There is no eye contact. It is dark and easy to find other places to look.

The pillows are crushed against the wall now. Kyle has slid closer so that he is half-straddling Stan’s thighs, where he can work his wrist at a better angle. He runs his thumb over the head of Stan’s cock, and Stan’s whole body shivers against him. A smack of palm against flesh rings out from the laptop speakers as Kyle does it again, dragging his thumb over silky skin. 

With a grunt Stan grabs Kyle’s ass and hauls him closer, into his lap. Kyle loses his grip, gasps into Stan’s mouth. Before he’s quite got his balance back, their dicks are pressed length to length and one of Stan’s hands is working around both of them, while the other splays out over the small of Kyle’s back, holding him in place, fingertips pressing down in little pulses in time with the huge, wracking breaths which Kyle can feel against his neck. 

He finds himself rocking into the rhythm, pushing his ass against Stan’s thighs to get momentum. He gets one hand around Stan’s to help set the pace and then pushes the fingers of the other through Stan’s hair. He isn’t sure what makes him do it— the gesture isn’t right for the mood they’ve set— but as his fingers tug between the roots, Stan lifts his gaze and just for a second their eyes lock. Then, Kyle is coming so hard that he has to slap a palm against the wall above Stan’s shoulder to keep from falling off the fucking bed. 

Stan’s hips jerk up beneath him, forcing him almost to his knees. He feels the wet spill over his knuckles and the sharp edge of Stan’s teeth pressing just behind his jaw.

A moment later, still gasping in Stan’s lap, unwilling to move yet, Kyle says, “See, that worked way better than Mountain Dew.” 

Stan laughs, then stops. He gropes for Kyle’s chin, his thumb slipping into Kyle’s mouth and tugs it to the right angle for a porn-standard kiss.  
Forgotten on the laptop screen, three strangers keep working through their choreography. From somewhere in the pile of pillows, Kyle’s phone chirps. The display illuminates, unnoticed, with another message from ‘McCordick’. 

_Btw I made a bet w fatass abt u guys. Kenny is made of win yo... Happy buttsex amigos! ;)_


End file.
